Carabineros de Chile

The sun has set over Cajon del Maipo. The clouds which hang along the divide have transitioned through hues of oranges, reds, purples, then blue. The dusk breeze ripples the tent wall as I write, lying outside the horse paddock of the Carabineros of El Reten San Gabriel, Chile. As a safety practice we generally avoid pitching our tent in or near towns. Yet here, due to needing to address some border crossing issues early in the morning, and afforded the protection of the Carabineros, we rest soundly.

As our route skirts along the highest points of the Andes, which also happens to be the border between Chile and Argentina, we frequently encounter police and border personnel. Any one of these points could present a serious hitch to our progress. Piles of paperwork and run around. These situations are tense and exhausting, and often we have to rely on privilege, a decent grasp of the language, a bit of charm, stolid persistence, and patience.

You see, we present something of an inconvenience to these officials as our situation and requests are often outside of protocol. We appear from no-mans-land, between the frontiers. Other times we arrive unannounced and weary, seeking entry and exit visas for unmanned borders. We are traveling on foot, so even when we appear at staffed border stations, they have nothing to put in the paperwork line requiring a license plate. In short, we are a pain in the butt.

Officers outside of Aguas Buenas stop their rotation to check on us and chat.

These exchanges usually begin curt and business-like as they ask for our documents and to figure out how we got there. The alchemy happens with those who are willing to look past their work routines and take an interest in us as people. When both sides of the exchange become humans – rather than processes – in each other’s eyes.

This is one of the gifts of our unusual journey. The source of hours of headache at crossings is also opportunity for these humanizing exchanges. When the usual interrogation devolves into conversation. Questions about what we are carrying in our packs and what would inspire two women to be out in such remote and dangerous terrain. “There are pumas in these mountains,” they often admonish.

Sometimes we walk up to remote outposts where guards serve in one month rotations during the summer, and they have nothing but time and curiosity. For example, outside of Laguna Dial, Chile, on the Greater Patagonian Trail, the trees around the Carabinero building were the first we had seen in 3 days. Water flowed free and clean after a long dry stretch for us. The men were cutting up fruit. They offered us shade and filled our water bottles.

With the Carabineros north of Laguna Dial.

We crossed paths with another group on horse patrol outside of Puente Ingles. There the inquisition gave way to one of the officers showing us pictures of his daughter’s high school graduation. “I have a daughter at home, you see,” he explained, “this is why I cannot help but worry about you.”

“You and my dad both,” I smile at him, attempting to be conciliatory but honestly, I can make no guarantees. Not to my own family nor to those we meet along the way. I can only show them our detailed plans and routes, our emergency satellite tracker, our GPS, our emergency bail out plans, and our deep respect for mother nature & la Pachamama (and our preparedness to abdicate plans to her mighty whims). So far, between that and encountering kind spirits and guardians such as these, our way has been merciful.

Another encounter was in popping up at a border crossing from between Argentina and Chile outside of Antuco. The officials were accustomed to car traffic coming from Argentina and were baffled that we already had Chilean stamps. “But you came from the Argentine side,” they insisted, pointing at the fence around their building which was a fair 15 km from the actual border itself.
“Yes but we have stayed on the Chilean side,” I explained in Spanish, again.
“. . . but you are coming from the east. That is Argentina,” the agent replied.
“Yes, we were in between the countries but on the Chilean side.”

Fidgit approaching the frontera crossing at Antuco, with Mt Peludo in the background

We stood there, looking at each other from either side of this bureaucratic abyss.
Neon and I stepped out as the staff gathered in the tiny office to discuss how to deal with this. They had done the same thing when two other Greater Patagonian Trail hikers had appeared in a similar fashion the day before, going in the opposite direction. They had no process in place to deal with nuisances like us.

As we sat in the shade outside, waiting to know our fate, one of the agents walked brusquely past into the bunk house, glancing at us out of the corner of his eye. When he came back past he slipped us half a chocolate bar to munch on as we waited. Eventually, it was decided they should stamp us into the country again so we effectively have two entrance stamps to Chile with no exit in between.

Today’s ordeal began when we showed up hoping for an exit stamp to cross Portillo Piuquenes, a footpath some 35 km on, high in the Andes. We had done our best diligence to go in to the International Police in Santiago and make the necessary arrangements, but apparently something was lost in translation, and I had sent the permission email to the correct address but the wrong department.

Fidgit, trying hard and getting nowhere, with President Michelle overseeing.

Upon our arrival in San Gabriel, we learned the International Police have to send an agent up to stamp us out. They only do this on Mondays and Wednesdays upon request. As the frustrated woman at headquarters on the phone and at the end of her working day tried to explain the process again and I repeat back to make sure I understood correctly, it became too much for her and she hung up on me.

Sargent Jergara walked in at just this moment. As I sat behind one of the outpost desks, phone in one hand, pen in the other, clearly past my limits, he wasted no time in sussing out the issue and got on the phone on our behalf. Rather than focusing just on the paperwork and legality, he saw us as people.

With the Sergeant and several other officers/guard dog in front of the Reten.

Having a conversation with him, instead of an interrogation, took my mind away from the crummy phone interaction, and I was reminded that we are all humans here. He became interested in our hike and clearly knew what he was talking about as we told him how far we have walked. He looked over us over and said, “but your shoes look too new.”

“Yes!” we laugh, “we just replaced them in Santiago.” He immediately occupied himself with our situation, getting on the phone to see if there was a way to help expedite the process. He came up with an idea of how we could still make progress on our walk as we waited for the officials to arrive from Santiago to give us the stamps necessary to leave the country legally.

As the day wore on toward evening and we became concerned about where we could pitch our tent so near civilization, he again got on the phone and secured us permission to camp on the police grounds. As we set up the tent, he reappeared with two delicious empanadas, our favorite town treat, as a regalo (gift).

He put it best in his entry to the traveling trail journal we carry. He wrote:

04 March, 2017
I leave this note to two beautiful people who I admire for their valor in realizing this hike and I hope that as the police officer I am and that belonging to the Carabineros de Chile I have been able to lend even a grain of sand of support to achieving your objective.
I hope that you carry forward in your hearts a good image of the Carabineros de Chile and we wish you good luck.
Leonard Jergara Martell- Sargent of the Carabineros

This story is made universal because of your equating logistical setbacks with human solutions. The little traveling that I have done solo throughout South Louisiana, and Mississippi Blues Delta towns, have all been enhanced by the unexpected kindness of strangers…some of whom are now dear friends. These days, in light of the human atrocities of the Trump Administration toward the environment, and immigrants, it is paramount to keep the spirit you promote to maintain optimism.